The Marauders: Year Seven Part One

Interspiritual Relationships

Peeves seemed set to dismantle the Christmas tree one bauble at a time, launching them about the Great Hall and causing an absolute mania that had him cackling in such pure delight that his ghostly form generated so much energy he was crackling like an electrically charged cloud during a thunderstorm with every move he made. Filch shouted threats, waved a broomstick in attempts to hit the poltergeist, and dodged flying glass balls as Peeves chucked them down merrily aiming for Filch's filthy head. 

Sirius sat at one of the tables, his feet up on the chair next to him, a glass of spiked eggnog in his hand (the bottle of firewhiskey tucked carefully in his suit pocket) and grinned, watching the chaos unfold as he sipped his drink.

"If I didn't know better," Remus said from Sirius's other side, where he was also watching the ongoing battle between Peeves and Filch, "I'd think that you were rather enjoying that your date is destroying the ball."

Sirius looked over at Remus with a roll of his head and his eyes danced with mischief even as he gasped exaggeratedly. "Me? Enjoy something like that?" he gestured to the front of the room as a big silver bauble smashed on the floor at Filch's feet, scaring the daylights from Mrs. Norris, who ran, shrieking, from the Great Hall, her tail raised and poofed as thick as a beater's bat. "Never."

Remus's lip twitched.

Peter came over and dropped a heaping plate of gingerbread on the table. "I got us snacks."

Sirius dropped his feet to the floor and grabbed a chunk of the bread, "Thfannkffs Wormfftahhl," he said, shoving some into his mouth.

"Yeah, of course," Peter said, and he sniffed his own peace, breathing deeply. "Gods, I love this gingerbread. Every year it's the best part of the ball!" He nibbled some delicately. Remus turned down his portion, the full moon just a week away, food was starting to turn his stomach. "All the more for me, then," Peter said, tugging Remus's his way.

Sirius asked, "Oi, why aren't you sitting with Wendy anyway?"

Peter shrugged.

Remus supplied, "Because he's my date tonight, right, Pete?"

"Right," Peter answered, nodding.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Ought I to be jealous?"

"No more than I ought with you and Peevesy," Remus answered, mocking Peeve's tone when he said Peevesy. 

Sirius chuckled. "Well, seeing as my date is quite busy playing with his balls --" (Peter choked on gingerbread.) "-- perhaps I could have a dance from you?"

Remus looked at Peter. "Do you mind?"

Peter shook his head, and thumped his chest to swallow the gingerbread, "No it's alright, I figured you'd be cheating on me anyway."

Sirius slid his glass across the table, "Here you are, drink this up, it'll help."

Peter gulped down the eggnog. "Tastes funny," he commented. Then, "Wait did you -- is that -- firewhiskey?" he whispered the last word.

"Yes," Sirius whispered it back the same as Peter had done.

"Well that isn't bad, is it?" Peter said, "I actually sort of like it."

"Well here's the rest if you want more," Sirius said, handing Peter the bottle. "Careful though, a little bit goes a long way since it's been shrunken down." He grabbed Remus's hand, "C'mon before Peeves starts tearing up the dance floor... literally." And he dragged Remus away to the cleared space in the center of the room.

Peter watched them go, and looked at the bottle Sirius had given him, picking again at his cake for a moment before even the food bored him and he sighed and pushed the plate away.